Chapter 2

In the middle of swearing a blue streak, the bell above the door tinkled, announcing someone’s arrival. I put on my most welcoming smile and turned to face my guest. And froze.

It was indeed Wheeler Ridley in the flesh, now an adult and looking like he’d stepped out ofGQmagazine. His light brown skin and thick black hair were a testament to his Latino heritage on his mother’s side, but the green eyes were his dad’s. Though no more than a few seconds had passed, it felt like a lifetime to me.

I cleared my throat and said, “Welcome to Misty View Motel. Do you have a reservation?” I thought if I played it cool, I could get through this.

“Ah, yeah. It’s Ridley. Wheeler is the first name.” He adjusted the bag strap on his broad shoulder and waited as I clicked around on the computer screen. Good thing he couldn’t see my fingers trembling on the mouse.

Okay, so he didn’t remember me. Why would he, anyhow? He’d forgotten me once we reached high school. It was a long time ago, I reasoned, and while he looked the same, I’d filled out a bit from the skinny kid I used to be and the long, Goth hair I’d favored in school had been replaced by a buzz cut.

“Okay, Mr. Ridley, if I may see some ID and your credit card, please.”

After handing them over, I completed the process in the system, then handed everything back to him, along with the keys. “Room 120. Go right when you leave here and it’s at the end of the corridor. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks, I’m sure I will.” He smiled at me and walked to the door. Before he left, Wheeler said, “You look familiar. Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Probably just coincidence,” I said. He nodded and left.

I sank into my chair behind the desk and covered my face with both hands. Why did I lie? Apparently Wheeler Ridley still had some power over me, all these years later.

* * * *

Saturday morning, after making sure the complimentary breakfast was displayed to my satisfaction, I changed into a pair of old shorts and headed to the beach for a quick run. It was early and the sun was just coming up over the horizon. I had placed a sign at the desk to let guests know I’d be back in half an hour.

It was a little cool but not uncomfortably so as I set out on my three-mile run up and down the beach. It was how I kept in shape and kept the stress at bay. If a day was really bad, I’d go for another run at night, assuming I had the energy to do so.

I ran and ran, the sand beneath my sneakers yielding a little with each step as I kept a steady pace. I was the only one out here, and I knew this stretch of beach like the back of my hand.

On my third mile, a saw another jogger heading toward me. Curious, I kept on going until we neared each other, and I could make out Wheeler Ridley’s face. Great.

Just act normal.“Morning, Mr. Ridley,” I greeted him and kept on going. As I ran farther away, I realized the expression on his face had been peculiar, as if he was still trying to place who I was in his past. I also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he’d done of my body as we’d passed each other. That was weird. I put it out of my mind and finished my dawn run.

Once I was showered and dressed in jeans and a shirt, I went to the lounge to check on the food, replenish the coffee and make sure everyone was taken care of, those who were awake at this hour.

Mr. and Mrs. Gottfried were having a quick weekend escape, just because they could. Or at least, that was what they’d told me when they’d arrived yesterday morning.

“Good morning, Tory. This looks wonderful,” the missus said, and I thanked her.

“Planning to go into town today?” I asked. Most guests liked to check out the kitschy shops along with the beach.

“That was our plan,” said Mr. Gottfried. “Eleanor here wants to buy some souvenirs for our brood at home.”

“Well, you’ll find just about anything you desire. Have fun.” I smiled at them, then returned to the front desk.

Maury would be on shift around nine o’clock, which would give me time to finish some paperwork and stock the housekeeping cart with fresh linen.

A little while later, as I scrolled down the computer screen, the front door opened and I looked up. It was Wheeler. Schooling my face into a polite smile, I asked, “How may I help you, Mr. Ridley?” I noticed he’d showered and changed as well, and the light green cargo pants and white polo shirt he wore were an excellent foil for his skin, something I wished I didn’t notice. He had a pair of Aviator sunglasses dangling from his long fingers.